


A Cold Mistress

by 9Mephistopheles9



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9Mephistopheles9/pseuds/9Mephistopheles9
Summary: Jaskier realizes he loves Geralt shortly after he leaves him on the mountain. He is sure that Geralt hates him. Geralt wants to apologize but is a little afraid to. Its just some cute fluff. I'm new to fic writing.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	A Cold Mistress

The realization had come just too late for Jaskier. It had dawned on him some time after he finally gave up and stormed down the mountain. You could only believe you were wanted despite the protestations of others, for so long. He had very little coin, so he slept in the stables of an inn. It was cold as hell and every time he breathed out, a white cloud rose into the air.  
As he burrowed into the hay grumbling to himself, he finally asked the important question: why did I volunteer to put up with this so long? After all he had been doing the same thing with geralt for years, and thinking about how unpleasant it felt now, he wondered why he hadn't left sooner.  
At last it dawned on him. He felt idiotic, both for allowing it to happen and for not realizing it had until this moment. He had been infatuated with Geralt of Rivia. He'd never left because it hadn't occurred to him that this love was one sided, and that was because it had never occurred to him that he was in love. With someone who hated him. He let out a dramatic sigh and rolled over in the hay.  
~  
After a few years, he was back on track, he played and sang, though his lyrics had taken on an element of malice. He hadn't forgotten about Geralt, but he had pushed him to the farthest corners of his mind, and that was good enough.  
That night was cold again, but Jaskier could barely hear the wind whipping through the trees over the sound of his own raucous playing. The inn he was playing at was warm but incredibly dirty, the ground was covered in little puddles that had dripped off of the cloaks of cold patrons, and he had to hop to avoid ruining his shoes in them. He gathered a good deal of money, and played his last song. It was an unfinished one about a cold mistress, which he improvised parts of on the spot. Grimaces and sympathetic nods passed through the crowd of farmers and shopkeepers, many of which had been married at fifteen or sixteen. At last he had eked every bit of donation out of the crowd.  
He should have been happy that he had made enough for the room, but he regretted playing his last song. He had been working on it ever since he had left geralt, and it was undoubtedly about him.  
The room was colder than the rest of the inn, probably because it was upstairs. Despite this it was not a bad lodging. The bed was clean enough and surprisingly, there weren't any signs of rats, which were usually everywhere.  
He took off his expensive shoes and lay on the bed. He tried very hard not to think about Geralt most nights, but tonight his brain won. He thought about everything. He thought about how stupid it was to agonize for so long, over a few harsh words. He thought about how he shouldn't have been surprised that Geralt didn't want him around, and he had been willfully convincing himself otherwise. But mostly he thought about how betrayed he had felt. It was no secret that the Witcher didn't make friends too easily, but Jaskier didn't either, for perhaps the opposite reasons. Part of him had hoped that Geralt would understand, and if nothing else, take pity on him. That was the problem though, the Witcher didn't take pity on people he either liked them or he didn't.  
Jaskier had managed to cling to him longer than most people he disliked could, because he was simply more willing to put up with being disliked, even punched in the gut a few times. His tried and true method for making friends had always been sticking to people until they managed to properly convince him that they hated him.  
That was probably, he thought, why it had hurt him so much to be rejected by Geralt. He had thought, if anyone in the world was different enough to think differently of him, it was Geralt. But even the ostracized Witcher couldn't put up with him and that hurt, because it meant no one could.  
Jaskier got out of bed and threw open the window, letting the cold wind in, then he took up his lute and played softly with his numb fingers, the song he had been writing:  
The lady I love is a cold mistress  
And still I will fall to her icy caress  
I would work for her whims but she has none to please  
And her looks are as harsh as a stiff autumn breeze  
She leaves me, she hates me, she curses my name  
And still stays my love, forever the same  
The lady I love is a cold mistress  
Yet now I still long for her icy caress  
~ 

Geralt had wanted to apologize. He had hated the part of him that wanted to apologize, and he had tried very hard to convince himself that he had meant what he said. Because it felt better to do that than to admit that he didn't always think ten steps ahead, but he felt bad. He also felt lonely. The feeling of loneliness had subsided once he found Ciri, but he was still guilty.  
By the time he had gotten his bearings with the child that was newly under his protection, he didn't know where to begin to look, and feared that it was far too late for an apology. He resolved to move on from Jaskier completely, to think of him as a ghost of his past, and yet he would still find himself thinking of him, here and there. Sometimes he would think he could use a little music and out of habit, he would turn to see what Jaskier was doing, only to see a blue eyed Ciri look up, ready to answer a question.  
Sometimes he would think how similar her eyes looked to Jaskier's. He tried to convince himself that he couldn't remember what color they were. He could. They were blue.  
Ciri often asked him about his travels, and as much as he tried not to bring up Jaskier, she had a knack for forcing information out of people. A knack for picking at old wounds, he thought bitterly. He never said it. He had been trying to treat his new ward with some tenderness, the last thing he needed was her deciding that he was so unbearable that she would run away and get eaten by wolves. Of course his version of tenderness was more along the lines of saying nothing, rather than a mean spirited quip, but nevertheless he was trying.  
~  
After three consecutive jobs, which all payed abysmally, he was exhausted and so was Ciri. That night as he set up a fire at the edge of the woods Ciri finally spoke up.  
"There's a village near here, I can see the smoke."  
She said very clearly trying to convince him to rent a room at an inn.  
"Yes I know." He said in the most amiable tone he had ever managed (he inwardly congratulated himself.)  
"We could sleep in an inn for once."  
"Now I don't think that-" he looked up to see her looking a mixture of furious, tired and disappointed.  
"Allright."  
Her expression lit up, as she stood and gathered her things.  
Once they got into the inn Geralt's body language changed visibly. He kept his shoulders and his head down in what looked like a futile attempt to make himself smaller. At the counter he ordered stew for Ciri and sat in a corner. Ciri brought her plate over, and sat next to him. Geralt was expecting curious eyes to turn on him any moment, but as he scanned the room he realized they were all looking in the same direction, away from him at… Jaskier?!

It was him. Barely changed save for the difference in his musical material. The song was notably bitter. Geralt wondered if he was responsible for it. He gritted his teeth and hoped that he wouldn't see him. If he could just get to his room quietly it would all- Ciri was talking to Jaskier in an instant. He had seated himself at a table and put down his lute. Geralt inched his way closer, bracing himself for the most awkward encounter of his life, he heard what they were talking about. 

"It was one of my favorites" came Ciri's indignant tone  
"That's quite an obscure song for someone to request, I mean, no offense, but it's normally old people"  
Ciri laughed, she didn't seem offended. Jaskier still was making his exaggerated funny expressions, they would entertain anyone to see, Geralt thought. You can't help but like him, it's not me, it's just the way Jaskier makes people, he reasoned with himself. How else would he- he stopped his own train of thought realizing he was equating himself to one of Jaskier's many female admirers. He wondered what it felt like to be so easily loved.  
He put a hand on Ciri's arm and almost succeeded in pulling her away.  
"Geralt?!"  
"Fuck."  
"Just as pleased to see me as last time I see, I know it's been a while but I don't remember you having a kid."  
"Jaskier I never meant to-"  
"It's alright, I'm annoying, I don't blame you" he interrupted Geralt's poor attempt at an apology, not registering what it was.  
"You know each other?" Ciri cut in, looking wildly back, and forth between them.  
Geralt resigned to a long and complicated conversation with the two, and sat down.  
He didn't like conversations. He wasn't good with words and he never volunteered to make a fool of himself.  
Jaskier immediately opened his mouth to begin saying something about Ciri, but Geralt interrupted, this time determined to get a word in.  
"Jaskier, before you say anything, I- I'm sorry for what I said, and I didn't mean it"  
His words were all catching on each other and he felt stupid making such an apology.  
"What did you say?" Asked Ciri who was still reeling from the sudden dramatic recognition. Her question was ignored.  
"I-what?!"  
"I know it's not enough to just apologize but I don't know what else to say."  
"So you don't hate me?"  
"What?"  
"You don't hate me?"  
"No, of course I don't hate you, I'm sorry, you fool"  
Jaskier grinned and took up his usual humorous tone almost as if nothing had ever happened,  
"All right, say it once more without calling me a fool and you're forgiven"  
Geralt grunted uncomfortably but conceded.  
"I'm sorry"  
"Someone answer me now!" Ciri was getting annoyed with the suspense.  
"Jaskier is a friend of mine." Said Geralt looking in any direction that wasn't his two companions.  
She lit up with recognition as she put the pieces of Geralt's brief stories together.  
"The man who almost got killed by the djin?" She whispered not so subtly to Geralt  
"Yes."  
~  
Ciri went to sleep almost the moment she got into the bed. Geralt set a blanket on the floor and tried to sleep to no avail. Eventually he got up and crept through the inn to Jaskier's room, unsure why.  
It felt strange to sneak around at night without his sword and armour. He stood outside what he knew was Jaskier's room for a few moments. He thought about knocking and then thought it seemed ridiculous, just and he was turning to leave, Jaskier opened the door.  
"I could see your shadow, are you alright?"  
"Yes. I'm just.."  
"Why don't you come in and sit with me for once instead of moping around."  
Geralt shuffled in and sat on a very old chair.  
Jaskier sat on the end of his bed, and was shockingly, quiet for a moment. Then he broke the silence.  
"Do you really not hate me?"  
"I don't hate you." Geralt said in an unhelpfully annoyed tone.  
"You probably will." Jaskier said looking at his feet.  
"Oh God, what did you do this time?" Geralt was resigned to Jaskier getting himself in trouble.  
"I didn't do anything!" He said defensively but still with that silly tone of faux outrage.  
Then he looked more somber.  
"Geralt I'm going to tell you something and you don't have to answer, and if you hate me afterward it's alright."  
Geralt quietly braced himself for a story about an angry mob or someone's wife being very attractive.  
"After what you said I thought for sure that you hated me, and if even you hated me I thought I was pretty much doomed, because regular people hate me too, but I really wanted you to not hate me, because... I love you. Not as a friend. The same way you love a woman, and I know that you don't feel the same, but please don't hate me for it, Geralt, I really can't help it."  
Something wrenched in his stomach. Jaskier looked beautiful in the low light. He hadn't ever thought to examine his feelings before, and now it hit him like a shockwave that he felt the same.  
"Jaskier… I feel, the same way, but you can't really want me, I've been an ass to you our entire friendship and even when I'm trying to be good to people I don't know if I can not be-"  
"A cold mistress?"  
"That's one way to put it."  
"I don't care! Just tell me you don't hate me now and again and I'll stick around, you don't even need to say it now if-"  
"Jaskier, I love you"  
His breath hitched.  
Jaskier stopped dead for a moment, and then a huge smile broke across his face. He ran into Geralt and hugged him, which Geralt was both not used to and not expecting, and then without knowing why the relief of being forgiven and confessing what he had been denying even to himself, won him and he kissed Jaskier. It was new to him, he'd never confessed love before, but it felt… nice to have Jaskier's lips pressed against him, and feel his drumming heartbeat. It felt nice to be wanted and it felt nice to be accepted, and he finally just wanted to surrender to that, and let himself be in love.


End file.
